


Déjà vu

by tmelange



Series: Between an Arrow and a Target [2]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-30
Updated: 2011-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-20 21:36:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmelange/pseuds/tmelange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver makes friendly overtures towards Clark and is rebuffed. Clark is intent upon not repeating the mistakes of the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Déjà vu

**Author's Note:**

> All events take place after/during episode 605 and assume everything before and nothing after. You probably wouldn't understand this ficlet if you haven't seen the episode; it doesn't really stand on its own.

The silver Mercedes turned from the road onto the path that led to the Kent Farm, kicking up dirt and making that loud crunching sound of tires on gravel. Clark Kent kept his head down, trying to finish securing the last five bales of hay before the inevitable interruption. He knew who was in the car—Oliver Queen—could hear his heartbeat as he exited town and pointed his car in the direction of the farm fifteen minutes ago, and Clark really wasn't in the mood to entertain a bored billionaire with a bow and arrow, playing at being Robin Hood. He'd had enough of the idle rich to last him a lifetime; he had a farm to run.

Ollie exited the car and strolled around the tractor, until he was standing within ten feet of where Clark was working. Since he was standing there, waiting, Clark used a burst of super speed to finish tying the bundles. He had to admit, it was surprisingly gratifying to hear Ollie whistle low, admiringly, as he wrapped up his task in a blur of motion. For so long, Chloe had been the only one who understood everything he could actually _do_ with his powers. His abilities—his heritage—it really was amazing; it wasn't all about death and destruction. He wasn't above a little showing off, if the opportunity presented itself and it wouldn't hurt anyone. It was nice to be able to impress someone for a change, even if it was only Oliver Queen.

"Clark," Ollie said, as Clark straightened and wiped his hands on his jeans. He turned and noticed that Ollie's arm was in a sling and that he was dressed casually in boots, jeans and a simple white t-shirt with a fleece jacket over it, which, Clark supposed, was an improvement over Lex and his suits and designer shoes. Cow shit and three hundred dollar shoes were a poor combination, but Lex would never concede the point. Apparently, Ollie had a bit more sense, and Clark couldn't help but think of his dad. At least Jonathan would have approved.

"What brings you out this way?" Clark asked with a small sigh. "Looking for Lois?"

"Do you want me to be?" Ollie's lips quirked, but when Clark merely stared at him impassively, Ollie shook his head as if the lack of response was positively exasperating.

"What do you want, Ollie?"

"You don't like me very much, do you, Clark? And here I am trying to be charming. Next time I'll bring flowers."

"Are you done? Because I'm busy." Clark turned away and hefted two bales of hay, one in each hand and tossed them into the barn where they would be stacked and stored for the winter.

"We really need to buy you a sense of humor, Clark," Ollie quipped, following him into the barn and settling on the steps to the loft. "I hear they have them on sale at Walmart."

Again, Clark sighed. "How's your shoulder?" he asked, giving up. Clearly, Ollie wasn't going to take a hint and would stay until he'd gotten whatever he came for. The easiest thing to do was to humor him, but seeing him sitting in the barn reminded Clark of Lex, and it was harder than he ever thought it would be, not to remember, not to make small, inconsequential comparisons; broad, portentous analogies. They had a lot in common—Lex and Ollie—had the same background, resources, ran in the same circles. Perhaps that was the reason why Clark was…uninterested in Ollie's friendly overtures, or at least skeptical. It was just like the situation with Lex, all over again, and this time Clark would listen to his father's voice out of the distant past that warned him to keep his distance. Ollie may know something of his secret, but he didn't know the half of it, and Clark preferred to keep it that way. So all this friendliness, this showing up at the farm unannounced to _chat_ —Clark's upbringing rebelled at him being outright offensive but he could really do without it.

"The shoulder's pretty good," Ollie said, flexing the body part in question and grimacing. "It wasn't quite as bad as it looked. Should be good as new in a few weeks."

"Glad to hear it." Clark nodded, turned his back, pleased that he'd gotten the pleasantries out of the way, and continued to work.

"I thought about what you said," Ollie continued, from his seat on the steps, "—about Lex. I was just up at the mansion, trying to play nice. Didn't go over very well."

"Lex isn't the type to let things go." Clark started unloading the bales from the north field that were stacked in the hitch and setting them neatly against the barn wall.

"That's an understatement," Ollie said, under his breath. "Hey," he spoke up, "I'd really like the backstory on how you got to know Lex so well. Has to be more than just a dust up over a girl, attractive as she may be. Lois doesn't think too highly of your Lana Lang."

"She's not _my_ Lana Lang," Clark mumbled. Ollie could sit in his barn until the cow jumped over the moon but this conversation was _not_ happening. "And Lois is hardly an impartial judge."

"I don't think Lois and impartial belong in the same sentence," Ollie agreed. He paused. "So is that all I'm going to get?"

Clark looked over, studied the newest person who thought they deserved a piece of him. "What more do you want?"

Ollie raised a conciliatory hand, the one that was not immobilized by the sling. "Hey, listen," he said, "we're on the same side."

"Are we?" Clark shrugged, went back to stacking hay.

"You better hope we are. I seem to be the only one running around here who knows your secrets."

"And I know yours," Clark said over a shoulder. "That doesn't make us friends."

"Fine. We're not friends. But you have saved my life. I owe you for that. You have to let me at least pay you back—somehow."

"Do you expect people to pay you back when you steal from the rich and donate the money to an AIDS hospice? I don't need you to pay me back."

"You're positively hostile," Ollie mused. "Can't be me. My charm is legendary. Lex must have really done a number on you."

That stopped Clark cold. He turned towards Ollie and glared at this arrogant rich guy, with his blond hair perfectly askew, his chiseled chin, his clothing that seemed casual but was as expensive as Clark's whole wardrobe, just designed not to look that way—the privileged perfection that begged for a camera to chronicle the depths of such flawlessness. _At least Lex was—_

"This has nothing to do with Lex," Clark said. He let his disdain color his tone. "You have no interest in me. But for the fact that I can do certain things, you wouldn't give me a second thought. How long are you going to be in Metropolis anyway? A month? Six months? You don't need to get to know me or to know my history with Lex in order to do whatever it is that you came here to do. I'll be around to pull your ass out of the fire again, if you need it. I'd do the same for a stranger."

"Thanks," Ollie said dryly, "but don't bite my head off, boy wonder. I was just trying to be friendly. I'll take that very unwelcome overture off my to do list."

There was silence while Clark worked and Ollie studied him.

"So that thing that attacked us—Duncan's astral body or whatever you want to call it. Must have been some form of electrical manifestation."

"And it got fried by your electromagnetic arrow," Clark agreed, "along with what was left of Duncan's brain."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I'd like to know what Lionel was using on him though. What would give Duncan the ability to do something like that? You didn't get a look at it?"

Clark shrugged.

"I'll check with Lois. Maybe she'd have caught the details."

Out of the corner of his eyes, Clark watched Ollie tap his hand on the step he was sitting on, picking at a small indentation in the wood, and it finally occurred to him why Ollie was in his barn and seemed so disinclined to leave. Ollie felt bad, about what had happened to Duncan, how he'd treated him when they were all in school, the fact that he had thought his classmate dead, when he was actually a Luthor lab rat—and now Duncan was really dead, taking with him any hope for absolution. Not to mention Ollie had lost two of his best friends in the span of days. Clark had been a witness, knew the story and helped it reach its tragic conclusion. Ollie needed something from him. He needed understanding, commiseration. They weren't friends, but Clark wasn't heartless. He understood regret, had many such…regrets.

Again, he stopped working, gave Ollie his undivided attention, spoke seriously so Ollie would know he meant every word. "You know, making the wrong choices and living with the consequences—it's not easy, is it?"

Ollie smiled a little, wistfully. Clark thought the expression was…better than the arrogant smirk the archer usually wore. Clark could relate to a smile, sad and regretful. It seemed all his smiles were just like that these days.

"Speaking from experience, huh?" Ollie said.

"More than I'd like."

Ollie got up, brushed off his jeans, seemed about ready to go, finally—which was ironic because Clark had just gotten used to his presence, it had just now clicked, and Ollie didn't seem quite so…Lex-like at the moment. What was the difference? Clark was sure that Lex's regret would have been for himself, for how things worked out, how it all had affected _his_ life; Clark was positive that Lex would do nothing different if presented with the opportunity to go back in time and do things the right way if the cost was the sacrifice of everything he had accomplished or hoped to accomplish in this life. Somehow, Clark knew that Ollie—Ollie would give everything up just to make it right. It was the difference that defined…a hero.

But now Ollie was standing close, looking at him, studying him with his intense brown eyes. Clark realized they were exactly—exactly—of a height. Clark could look him in the eyes directly, not down at him as he would with most others. It was almost as if he were looking in a mirror of eyes, blue to brown, like they were the same, on the same side. Equal.

"We all make bad choices," Ollie said in a low voice. "All we can do is hope to make the right ones in the future.

Clark nodded slowly.

"I have one more question," Ollie said, sticking his good hand in his pocket and fishing around for his car keys. "Why did you come to me first? You said you were at the hospital and figured out that Duncan was going to try to finish the job, and that Lex and myself were in danger. You didn't know that Lex was at the clock tower. Yet you saved me…you came to save me…first?"

"I—"

"Don't answer that," Ollie interrupted. "I already know the answer." He paused. "We should be friends, Clark."

 _We have a future together, Clark. We're going to do great things._ Clark sighed, lightly, inaudibly. Lex haunted the farm, haunted his life like a ghost. Clark took all of Ollie in, the perfect profile, the small scratches on his face from the broken glass in the penthouse, the eyes that wanted something from him but weren't predatory so much as excited. Maybe it would be different this time. Maybe.

Clark raised an eyebrow, shook his head in mock exasperation.

Ollie smiled. It was like the sun coming up before his expression settled into its usual, arrogant smirk. Clark rolled his eyes, turned a little towards the barn door. Chloe was coming. She was a few minutes down the road.

"Oh, and you're wrong," Ollie said, jingling his keys.

"About…?"

"About me not giving you a second thought but for your unique abilities. You sell yourself short." Ollie gave him a long look, one that took him in from head to toes. It made Clark blush—hard—while Ollie continued his smug appraisal.

"Do you think we could try this friendship thing?" Ollie asked. "At the very least it should drive Lex crazy."

"That depends," Clark answered, trying to force the heat to leave his face. "Are you going to make showing up at my house a habit?"

"Is that an invitation?"

"Not likely."

"I'll try to restrain myself then. However, I'd like to extend an open invitation for you to visit the clock tower, whenever you have the time. I have this new arrow..."


End file.
